“We must speak, Mairi,” he said after a while.
“I know, Ambriel, but couldn’t it just wait until after we’ve had coffee? Whatever it is you’ve got to warn me about—because I know it will be a warning. You’re not here to bring me good news, are you? Despite what we’ve been told on Earth, you Angels never seem to bring glad tidings—well, not to us Mistdreamers anyway. Maybe once upon a time you brought glad tidings to some unmarried girl, who then married the man of her dreams, because society’s laws meant she’d be stoned to death if she didn’t—”
“Well, that’s not quite what happened,” he tried to explain, but was totally ignored as Mairi continued with her rant.
“Although I think somewhere along the way, that little truth of the story got slightly altered. I mean, come on, was he George Clooney? Was he Matt Bomer? I think not! A sixty-year-old man with a long beard surely isn’t, or wasn’t, the man of her dreams?”
“Let’s wait,” Ambriel rushed, not wishing to get into a theological debate, or discuss what did or did not happen in Bethlehem 2000 years previous, with Mairi. What he had to say could wait until they had drunk their coffee.
The young man who had been heating the milk walked towards them,
carefully carrying the coffees, setting them down directly in front of her and Ambriel.
“Very kind, I’m sure, Michael.” Ambriel grabbed his coffee greedily, putting an end to any more discussion, and began to sup.
“You wanted some cakes as well?” the young man, Michael, asked. “You too?” he said in Mairi’s direction, as his cheeks turned a lovely pink.
“Me too what?” she asked. “Oh, you mean, ‘me too’ for cakes?”
Michael’s blush deepened. “Apologies,” he stammered, becoming agitated.
Ambriel touched Michael’s hand. “There is no need for apologies, Michael. It is me who likes cakes. You should know that.” He laughed. “How many do I eat every time I come in here?”
Michael visibly relaxed, his eyes still on Mairi.
“He does like a lot of them. Maybe he will share,” he said, enunciating each word carefully, and with a quick glance at Ambriel, he giggled at the look of horror cast his way from the Angel.
“I thought not.” He nodded, turning from them to return to his station beside the huge coffee machine. He began polishing the silver levers and buttons until they shone so brightly, the sun’s reflected light dazzled her. Aware that Mairi was watching him, he attempted to wink; however, both of his eyes closed instead of just one. Blasting the steamer twice, he reminded Mairi of a chief engineer on a steam train, the one in complete control.
Mairi caught Michael laughing at his attempt but found when she returned the wink, she too closed both eyes.
Michael smiled and continued with the business of polishing the machine and tidying the area.
“Why here?” Mairi asked Ambriel.
“Why not? It makes great coffee, has cakes.”
“I can see it has cakes,” Mairi interrupted. “You have most of them on your plate!”
Ambriel had the good grace to blush as he picked up the marshmallow cupcake sitting atop a slice of carrot cake, millionaire’s shortbread, and a slab of coffee and walnut gateau. “If I’d had room, the cinnamon roll would be on the plate as well,” he said dreamily. “I have discovered you humans can create heaven on earth, simply by putting flour and sugar together and placing them in an oven.”
Mairi lowered a brow. “There’s a lot more to baking than that, and if you eat that lot you’ll get fat!” she said enviously.
“I’m an Angel, Mairi. I don’t have fat, and I won’t get fat.”
“I suppose that’s one for the Angels, then,” she added quickly. “But we get ten because we can bake and you lot can’t.”
“But we have ambrosia, and you humans don’t,” Ambriel added petulantly.
“I can’t believe we are having a conversation about what humans can bake and what Angels can make. Surely you didn’t bring me to Poddingtons to discuss the cooking and brewing abilities of Angels and humans?
“I’ll ask you again: why here? Why not Pret, or even The Dome—I know Appoloin prefers there—but aren’t they your favourite choice of coffee venue?”
“I have many coffee shops I love,” he stalled, and Mairi was fascinated by his reticence to continue.
“What’s bugging you, Ambriel? What’s going on that you don’t want to share with me?”
“Mairi, I do want to share. I just have to tell you in a way that will not concern you.”
“You mean, as much as it’s obviously concerning you?” she squeaked.
“Well, yes, actually.” He waited a few moments, allowing Mairi to retain some of her resolve, and breathe a little easier. “We are here, not merely because the cakes are amazing and the coffee is good enough for Angels, but because”—he paused, hoping his next words would not frighten her too much. They had to be said subtly—“Pret was broken into. The door was smashed, and the thieves left with nothing but the CCTV hard drive.”
“Sound like very smart thieves, if you ask me. Nobody will know who broke in now. Are you telling me that’s the reason we’re here?
“I’m not complaining,” she quickly said, as she took another mouthful of the delicious coffee, a trail of foam lingering on her top lip. Ambriel stretched over, and with a wave of his hand, the foam vanished.
“Seriously, Ambriel, that’s the best bit! Licking my lip—bugger off!”
“Shall I put it back?” he asked and raised his hand, his fingers ready to replace the foam.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” she snapped. “It’s gone now. Get on with the rest of what it is you are keeping from me. This is getting tedious. And can you tell me why Appoloin isn’t here? Where the hell is he?”
“Erm, well,” he stammered.
“Don’t tell me.” She sighed. “He’s part of this coffee mystery, isn’t he?”
“Well, no.” Ambriel delayed. “He is trying to track down the thieves.”
Mairi shook her head and sat up straight, then flicked away the hair that constantly fell from her bangs into her eyes, her long fingers creating a magical dance that fascinated Ambriel. So enraptured was he of the dance, he was unprepared when she grabbed him around the throat.
“Now, Angel, tell me what the hell is going on before I break your neck.” His eyes popped open in shock, and then, Ambriel instantly disappeared.
Michael laughed and shook his head. “You shouldn’t grab an Angel, Mairi. They don’t like that.”
Mairi’s cheeks turned pink at the rebuke. “How do you know me, Michael?”
“I know all the Mistdreamers, Mairi. You’re all very special, and you all love my coffee, especially Valerie, though she keeps telling me she likes tea or hot chocolate.”
Mairi’s eyes welled when she heard her cousin’s name. She missed them so much. If they were here with her they could advise her, tell her what she should be doing or where she was going wrong.
Why had she not thought of it before?
“I’m a Mistdreamer. I can find them there, and they can tell me what to do.”
“Not just quite yet,” said Elemiah when he sat beside them.
“Good to see you, Elemiah. Have you been torturing Lauren again?”
“Of course not,” he said, aghast. “I would never… ah, you do not mean physically. Then, yes, I am having a little fun with your cousin, but I fear not as much fun as she is having at my expense.”
“And good morrow to you, too, Elemiah,” pouted Ambriel, as he materialised. He glared at Mairi, and held his hands tightly to his neck in protection.
“Good morrow, Ambriel. How fare thee, Brother?”
“I fare well, and thee?”
Mairi held her hand up. “Please don’t start theeing and thouing.”
Both Angels turned to her, Elemiah taking his time, whilst covertly inspecting the Mistdreamer over the top of his cup, as she spoke with Ambriel. The two had a comfor
table relationship, he decided, and it was clear she trusted Ambriel, though her trust was marked with slight apprehension. Or perhaps it was more likely the information his brother Angel shared with her. Drawing his eyes from the pair, he noticed more Angels walking into the coffee shop.
The staff worked conscientiously, their heads nodding up and down from behind the counter, to each person they served. Michael’s coffee machine steamer whistled as the water pressure raced through the small pipe. His arms moved rapidly, as he added a coffee base to the cup, then easily filled the cup with the hot milk, waving his hand from side to side as he poured. It was an art form, Mairi thought, like a grand opera, with him as the conductor. He was leading the orchestra, inviting the next instrument to join, at the precise juncture in the music. His arms flowed to the music of the machines, and the shop was filled with his melody.
Each new customer was greeted with a warm smile and the customary, “Can I help you?” and before they had the opportunity to answer, Michael would place a coffee on the shelf before them. The look of surprise he received and the Angelic smile of gratitude, made him blush, then smile.
Five members of staff, including Michael, continually worked, as the line of customers grew longer, with no sign of easing. The occasional “Moe, can you get some…”, “Robyn grab me that…”, or “Gavin, did you move…”, was heard.
Mairi stopped talking with Ambriel. So deep in conversation had they been, she hadn’t noticed the line of people waiting to be served.
“Where did they all come from?” she asked Elemiah.
Laughing, he sipped more of his drink. “It’s a coffee break for them. It will be some time before this queue dies down.”
“Good lord, they’re all Angels.” She spun towards Ambriel. “I thought you said we were on Earth’s plane.”
“Well, actually,” he mumbled, “I did not say anything of the kind. You presumed we were on Earth.”
Elemiah snickered. “You two need to stop getting information mixed up. Mairi, have you never seen Angels on a coffee break before?”
Was it possible, she thought, that Elemiah was a little barmy? “Well,” she said as she rolled her eyes to the ceiling and folded her arms across her chest, “Elemiah, it’s just not one of those things you get to see sitting in Pret a Manger or Poddingtons.”
“Take a close look at them,” he whispered into her ear.
“I don’t believe it,” she gasped. “They all look the same. Not one of them is different! What are they playing at?”
“You are right in that.” Elemiah laughed. “They’ve covered themselves in glamour, so the servers will not recognise anyone, and they will not realise they have served the same person more than once.”
“That is just wrong.” Mairi huffed. “Surely you Angels have a moral code?”
A hush fell across the room, and it was as if the seconds of time stood still, and she was startled when every Angel, including Elemiah and Ambriel, all spoke in unison.
“Not when coffee’s involved!”
“I think you’re all crazy.” She laughed and placed her cup on the table carefully.
Elemiah and Ambriel inhaled the sweet scent of their foamy coffees, and she chuckled to herself when they closed their eyes and sighed in pure contentment as they sipped their their delicious drinks.
“Heaven in a cup,” said Elemiah.
“Are either of you going to tell me why we’re here, or are you just going to avoid the subject forever? Now, here’s the thing, I know the coffee is good, beyond amazing, in fact, but that’s not why we’re here, is it?” Pushing her cup to the centre of the table, she waited for the Angels’ response.
“Well,” Ambriel complained, slowly placing his cup on the table, but keeping a close eye on it, “we felt it was time you were made aware of the situation.”
“The situation? That would be the one Valerie, Lauren, and I are in, whereby we’ve to save your Angel asses?”
Elemiah smirked when Ambriel grew uncomfortable, and addressed Mairi to ease his pain. “Something on those lines,” he agreed, “but more on the lines of letting you know your cousin Valerie is in extreme danger, and the Infidelibus are working hard to ensure she is safe.”
Mairi gasped. “And Lauren, is she okay?”
“As far as is possible,” Ambriel ventured. “She’s probably a lot safer than yourself, having Forcas tend to her every second. I believe she’s getting a little tired of his persistent hovering.”
Noting Mairi’s fear for her cousins, Elemiah ploughed on. “We don’t tell you this to add to your already heightened concerns, but to make you even more conscious of the problems around you.”
“Yes,” Ambriel interrupted, figuratively pushing Elemiah to one side. “Have you been aware of anyone following you, or have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?”
Mairi took a moment to think before answering. “I don’t believe I have—wait a minute, I found out my Uncle Callum was in the nineteenth century. How could you not have known he was there?” she demanded.
“The same reason,” Ambriel answered crossly, “that we were unaware of the fact you were there!”
“You mean, you had no idea where I’ve been staying, all this time?”
“That’s exactly what he means,” Elemiah answered, “and neither do we wish to know where, although now we know when. It’s important this remain hidden from as many people as possible. We cannot risk the chance you might be found. Valerie is in enough danger as it is without you being harmed also.”
“Tell me,” Mairi said, trying to calm her nerves, “about Valerie. I haven’t been able to mistdream to either of them. Appoloin refuses to let me go, so any news of them would help.”
“Valerie is in the land of Fae with Prince Seere,” Ambriel told her. “She is coping better than Seere, given the circumstances.”
“And those are…?” she urged.
“Perhaps best you don’t know,” added Elemiah.
“Then I’ll just worry and go into mistdream,” she threatened.
“She lost her memory,” blurted Elemiah, “but she’s beginning to recall. We were”—he indicated Ambriel—“thinking perhaps you would be the one to push her memory to full capacity, but were informed this day of a threat to yourself.”
Mairi waited patiently for the threat to be revealed. Calming herself, she took another sip of coffee as the Angels did the same.
“We are unsure who the threat is, but can guess.”
“My half brother, the dickhead Lucias?”
“It might be. We are uncertain, as he has not been seen nor heard from, since the incident.”
“You mean the War of the Angels and Demons, when he declared his love for Valerie, before imprisoning us? Then my mother, the ugly, wicked soul that she is, declared she would kill me and spend an eternity trying to find me?”
“Erm, yes, that would be the incident to which we refer,” Ambriel stuttered.
“Well, praise be.” Mairi rolled her eyes and brushed away an imaginary piece of fluff from her shirt. “I’d hate to have thought it was something or someone worse than my idiot brother, or my endearingly awful mother!”
“What can I say,” giggled Ambriel, “you’ve led a charmed life!” He supped his drink, unaware that Elemiah and Mairi held their cups midair, stunned at his attempt at humour. Realising the table had become exceedingly quiet, he opened his eyes to see their mouths agape, while watching him.
“Wh-what?” he stuttered. “What have I said?”
“Who are you, and what have you done with Ambriel?” Mairi asked.
“It is I,” Ambriel insisted. “I am but me, Ambriel. No other has taken possession of me—”
Elemiah and Mairi burst out laughing. Oh, not at his attempt at humour; it was hilarious watching him assure them he was not possessed.
“I cannot tell a lie,” Elemiah chortled. “There is no doubt it is you, my friend. It was just a bit surprising to hear you joking. You have to admit, it’s not like
you, is it?”
“I felt the moment needed a little uplifting. This whole situation has become far too serious.”
“That from the Angel who goes on and on, ad nauseam about making sure we’re safe, that ‘it’s a serious situation’.” Mairi choked on her laughter when Ambriel opened his mouth to deny.
He stopped. It was good to feel contentment again, even if it would be short-lived. It was a joy to see Mairi and Elemiah at peace. He sighed happily, and then began to giggle along with the other two.
An Angel’s laugh is an infectious thing, and two Angels laughing create a magnificent whirlpool of unimaginable happiness. The Angels who were now in line were infected by this and began to laugh as well, caught up in the wonderful maelstrom. Mairi felt elated as she listened.
For the first time since this awful mistdreaming began, she felt the ending was near and the outcome would be splendiferous.
Her fleeting thoughts were whisked away into a myriad of fun as she relaxed into the moment, unaware that Ambriel and Elemiah were no longer laughing, their eyes were now filled with unshed tears.
Adramelechk’s blue mist surrounded her, and he whispered gentle and soothing thoughts into her mind, but there was something not quite right. Mairi was not concentrating on mistdreaming; she was paying too much attention to the cafe, missing Ambriel’s fearful expression.
She laughed and swayed in the mist, instead of focussing on where she was going.
“Mairi,” he whispered, “pay attention. You are heading off the mistdreaming path. Watch, child, take care,” he said urgently. “Let me take you where it is you are intended to go.”
Mairi nodded in agreement, but her head was lost in the clouds of fantasy and laughter. She drew a breath and attempted to focus, and as she did, her head wobbled. She shook it, trying to dispel whatever it was that stopped her from finding her mistdreaming place. She almost felt as though she was drunk. She had only taken coffee, though, so how could that be?
“Mairi!” Adramelechk yelled through his mist. “Pay attention! What is wrong with you?”
Mairi opened her mouth to explain, but no words came forth. She spoke to him using her mind and hoped the fog that was trapping her within the mist would break enough to allow her thoughts to get through to Adramelechk.
The Park Family: Mairi: Retribution Page 14
